Loyalty
by A Random Bowser
Summary: QLFC Round 2 Rich, talented, and popular…they would never understand. Now it was too late for them. It was too late for him.
_**Prompt**_

 **Round 2 -** **Hogwarts Subjects**

 **CHASER 1:** Write about someone doing their homework for the subject. DADA

 **Characters/Pairing:** Peter Pettigrew

 **Prompts:**

5\. (quote) 'I want to see and understand the world outside.' - Eren Jaeger, Attack On Titan,

11\. (song) 'Afterlife' by XYLO,

4\. (picture) [teacup by an open book]

 **Word Count (-AN):** 1111, MSW

 **Note:** Thanks to the wonderful Lizzie, TheNextFolchart, for betaing this story, and to the other wonderful Harpies for all their confidence and support. If it matters, I do not own Harry Potter in any form, except for the hard back copies of the books that sit on my shelf and they bring me no money. This story may have some AU elements in it.

QLFC Round 2 Rich, talented, and popular…they would never understand. Now it was too late for them. It was too late for him.

* * *

 _ **Loyalty**_

 _Oh, how the other half live_

 _With their perfect skin_

 _And oh, how I'll never be, never be_

 _Just like them_

A trembling hand lifted a white handkerchief to dab at small, watery eyes as the sunlight pouring through the open window made them tear up even more. With one month left before exams and two months until graduation, the professors were becoming increasingly demanding in regards to homework, assigning more of it and expecting higher quality papers in return. It was a pain and a hardship for those who found themselves putting things off until the last minute.

It was a well-known fact that he was the least skilled of the Marauders, at least when it came to the practical application of wand work, but the word procrastinate was not one the teachers would have ever applied to Peter Pettigrew. He was just as smart as his cohorts, although he rarely showed it, content as he was with letting the others run the show.

He sneered slightly thinking about how his friends moved through life. Rich, talented, and popular…they would never understand what it was to be poor, looked down upon, cast out because they were, in the words of his own mother, "too disgraceful to be considered a true wizard." Hypocrites, the lot of them, so light and good that they couldn't see past the tips of their own noses if the truth was sitting on them.

Peter shuffled in his chair and tugged lightly on the long sleeve of his shirt. He was acutely aware of the mark burning into his left forearm as he took a drink from the lukewarm cup of tea that sat alongside his Defense Against the Dark Arts book and the homework he was supposed to be finishing. It was interesting work, and something that he felt was relatively useful to know, considering he expected to start casting the curses he was writing about any day now. The Dark Lord had promised him.

Peter bit down on his tongue. He just had to wait for his time. It wasn't fair! Perfect, perfect Malfoy and his perfect pureblood cronies were already out there having their "fun", proving _their_ worth, while he, Peter, was forced to wait, to do homework, to watch from afar. The closest he was allowed to get was reading about their deeds each day in the morning paper.

Snap!

His quill snapped in half, splattering his parchment with ink, and Peter had to beat back the curses that came so readily to his lips these days. He fought the urge to vent his frustrations by shattering the tea cup against the wall. He reminded himself over and over in a mental mantra that the Dark Lord had trusted him with a task that the pretty little purebloods couldn't do. The Dark Lord had trusted him. Peter Pettigrew, a mere half-blood!

The thought was soothing, and Peter caressed the mark that was hidden beneath the sleeve of his shirt as he bent to retrieve a new quill and clean parchment from his backpack. He was content with the knowledge that the perfect little purebloods merely played at being servants of the dark. Malfoy and his lot would never understand true loyalty. They were too privileged to know, to understand, this desperation to be loved. Peter knew. For the chance to be appreciated, Peter had eagerly sold his own soul and would willing sell the souls of his friends. The Dark Lord knew. The Dark Lord understood what his lowliest servants had to suffer. Peter would be given the chance to seek retribution for his grievances. The Dark Lord had promised.

Peter cast a glance over the desk as he moved the ruined parchment and started neatly copying down the paragraphs he had already written. The current Defense professor was stricter than those of previous years and would accept nothing less than meticulously written essays from his NEWT level students.

'Why should I be forced to write about these curses when I could be out there using them far more effectively?' The thought had Peter sneering again.

A noise from the portrait hole heralded the arrival of his friends. "Still working, Peter? I thought you would have been done by now," Remus said as the group crossed the common room. He leaned on the back of Peter's chair and looked over his shoulder at the work he was copying over.

Peter carefully laid the quill to the side and forced a smile as he looked up at his friend. "Mostly just editing the details, making sure I turn in my best work." Peter held his smile in place as he looked over his shoulder to where Sirius was teasing a sulking James. "What happened? Filch catch him bribing Peeves again?" Peter raised his voice so that the two sitting on one of the common room's large sofas could hear him.

Remus chuckled and nudged Peter's shoulder before straightening and heading to the couches to join the other two. "Hurry and finish, Peter. There's still plenty of time before dinner," Remus said over his shoulder.

"Yes, hurry. Remus and I have to tell you about the mess James got himself into this time." Sirius laughed at the "Hey!" of protest from James. "I don't see why you put so much effort into your homework as it is," Sirius said.

"I want to see and understand the world outside." Peter turned sideways in his chair so he could look at the other three. "And to do that, I have to live through the war. I don't know about you, but to me, that means being able to defend myself is pretty important." The common room grew quiet as the words settled the older students like a heavy cloak. "Besides, I can't let Snape best me in everything, now can I. I bet it eats at him every time I score better on a paper."

Sirius snorted, James chuckled, and Remus sighed dramatically, and the tension in the room was broken. As he turned back to his work, Peter could hear the soft chatter of his friends were they held court on the couches. He allowed himself a soft little smile that was as triumphant as his eyes were sad. Laughter, not at him, but _with_ him, was a rare win, and for a moment Peter vividly remembered the days when they had all been younger. He remembered the hopes he had once placed in the men on the sofa. Now it was too late for them. It was too late for him.

 _Somebody save me,_

 _I just wanna be loved_

 _I just wanna be_

 _Loved._


End file.
